It's funny because it's true, you see? Fucking Brett Favre of comedy rock.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Doubling Up at Dunkin Donuts
Dunkin Donuts is a veritable treasure trove for a "list" blogger. We've already covered the people getting milkshakes and pretending they're coffees and we've probably already covered the idea of eating donuts(if we haven't, we should.)
Anyway, I go to the Dunky D's the other day for an iced coffee and a bagel on the way to work (on a Saturday -- speaking of the list), when two events take place that make me Jesus to turn my hands into hammers so I can smash everything in sight.
First: two dudes discussing this Obammer v. the Cambridge Police thing. Dude A says the Big O was wrong to douche on the cops. Fair enough. Sensing another possible racist in his presence, Dude B puts it on the line: "the only thing I've seen since he got elected is more taxes and more blacks." Aside from that dickhead's taxes actually going down, what does that second bit even mean? Whatever. I was in Dunky's, and this is the price you pay for bro-ing down with the common man, is it not?
Second: a dude strolls in in his saturday best(jean shorts and a tank-top) orders an iced coffee and asks for a styrofoam cup to put the plastic cup in. Thanks, bro. Think you can just dump your garbage in front of the store and idle your enormous truck for a few minutes? Maybe club a baby seal on the way out the door in case you haven't destroyed the Earth enough for the day? Wouldn't want your precious hand to get wet from that ice sweat though. Hey did you know back when I was a kid, they didn't even have cupholders that would hold drinks that big? Yeah, weird one, right?
There you have it. There's your average hockey mom or Joe the Plumber just gettin' 'er done for the American Dream at a Dunky's near you. Should've stuck to Starbucks, which despite what you're thinking, is NOT on the list.
Anyway, I go to the Dunky D's the other day for an iced coffee and a bagel on the way to work (on a Saturday -- speaking of the list), when two events take place that make me Jesus to turn my hands into hammers so I can smash everything in sight.
First: two dudes discussing this Obammer v. the Cambridge Police thing. Dude A says the Big O was wrong to douche on the cops. Fair enough. Sensing another possible racist in his presence, Dude B puts it on the line: "the only thing I've seen since he got elected is more taxes and more blacks." Aside from that dickhead's taxes actually going down, what does that second bit even mean? Whatever. I was in Dunky's, and this is the price you pay for bro-ing down with the common man, is it not?
Second: a dude strolls in in his saturday best(jean shorts and a tank-top) orders an iced coffee and asks for a styrofoam cup to put the plastic cup in. Thanks, bro. Think you can just dump your garbage in front of the store and idle your enormous truck for a few minutes? Maybe club a baby seal on the way out the door in case you haven't destroyed the Earth enough for the day? Wouldn't want your precious hand to get wet from that ice sweat though. Hey did you know back when I was a kid, they didn't even have cupholders that would hold drinks that big? Yeah, weird one, right?
There you have it. There's your average hockey mom or Joe the Plumber just gettin' 'er done for the American Dream at a Dunky's near you. Should've stuck to Starbucks, which despite what you're thinking, is NOT on the list.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Tough Guy Hearing Problems
Hard ass heroes are on the List for any number of reasons: those shorts, that sports jersey, getting fackin wasted tonight kid, not having a fucking clue about anything around them or the world in general, etc... But one of the overlooked phenomenons about this horrible sub-species of sub-humans is their curious inability to hear anything.
"WHAT DID YOU SAY? WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY? I DIDN'T HEAR WHAT YOU SAID, SAY THAT AGAIN. I KNOW YOU DIDN'T JUST SAY WHAT I THINK YOU SAID."
What's going on here? These dudes have so much blood shooting to their giant red faces that it renders their hearing holes inoperable?
What did I say? I said "You are on the List."
...
"The List, dude. I said you're on the List. It's a shitty joke blog. Ah, fuck it. Just smash my face in quick and knock me out so I can get out of this conversation as soon as possible."
"WHAT DID YOU SAY? WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY? I DIDN'T HEAR WHAT YOU SAID, SAY THAT AGAIN. I KNOW YOU DIDN'T JUST SAY WHAT I THINK YOU SAID."
What's going on here? These dudes have so much blood shooting to their giant red faces that it renders their hearing holes inoperable?
What did I say? I said "You are on the List."
...
"The List, dude. I said you're on the List. It's a shitty joke blog. Ah, fuck it. Just smash my face in quick and knock me out so I can get out of this conversation as soon as possible."
Table for 17
No way! You were here at dinner too? I didn't even see you all the way down there at the end of our ridiculously obnoxious party. Plus I came like an hour late, so maybe you didn't see me slide in.
...
I didn't eat either man, this place is too expensive. Just came to say hi to everyone and catch up. It's cool seeing everyone though. Nah, I didn't bring cash. The ATM was like all the way down the block, and how could I have known that I would have to pay for something when I got here? Let's just all split it on our cards.
...
I didn't eat either man, this place is too expensive. Just came to say hi to everyone and catch up. It's cool seeing everyone though. Nah, I didn't bring cash. The ATM was like all the way down the block, and how could I have known that I would have to pay for something when I got here? Let's just all split it on our cards.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Tanning Beds
LONDON - International cancer experts have moved tanning beds and other sources of ultraviolet radiation into the top cancer risk category, deeming them as deadly as arsenic and mustard gas. For years, scientists have described tanning beds and ultraviolet radiation as "probable carcinogens."
- Being surprised by this
- Being affected by this
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Mad Men
Repressed, racist, chain-smoking alcoholics boiling over with quiet rage and familial disappointment so all-consuming they can barely speak to one another? Sounds tempting, but I grew up Irish Catholic in Massachusetts, I've already seen how this show turns out.
SPOILER: Everyone dies alone at the end.
SPOILER: Everyone dies alone at the end.
Parkour
How they see themselves:
reality:
Oui! Get me, I'm Spiderman de Strasborg over here. Every artful jump a philosophical treatise against the bourgeois... zzzzzzzzz.
Not exactly sure if it's still worth my time hating this shit because I haven't seen any trend pieces about it in the media for at least a few dozens of minutes. But just to be safe, how do you say douche in French?
Update: Oh right.
Not exactly sure if it's still worth my time hating this shit because I haven't seen any trend pieces about it in the media for at least a few dozens of minutes. But just to be safe, how do you say douche in French?
Update: Oh right.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Cool Dads
I want everyone to print out this picture and keep it on hand at all times. Whenever you find yourself asking "How did we end up a nation of such entitled, oblivious pussies?" when you come across some mind-blowing On the List behavior, just pull it out as a reminder.
If this kid doesn't have a stack of video games and computer equipment in his bedroom worth more than my house then I'll piss in my own face. Remember the days when your dad didn't talk to you until you were like twenty five, and even then it was just to say something like "cut that damned sissy hair." These cool dads want to know whether their kid is up for sushi and what he thinks about the new Feist record.
If this kid doesn't have a stack of video games and computer equipment in his bedroom worth more than my house then I'll piss in my own face. Remember the days when your dad didn't talk to you until you were like twenty five, and even then it was just to say something like "cut that damned sissy hair." These cool dads want to know whether their kid is up for sushi and what he thinks about the new Feist record.
The Environment
We like punching hippies in the beard as much as the next dude. And the whole green movement thing of protesting genetically modified, illness-ridden animals who live short, brutal lives in over-crowded pens that are only going to make us sick and fat when we eat them anyway/ don't pollute the earth/ save the whales whining is pretty annoying.
That said, this sort of reactionary counter-attack seems a little bit spiteful doesn't it? Couldn't you have just dumped thousands of gallons of poison into the ocean like a respectable titan of industry and let that dude die slow-like as God intended? (page 123 in the Bible actually.) Running him over with your boat might be a bit much.
That said, this sort of reactionary counter-attack seems a little bit spiteful doesn't it? Couldn't you have just dumped thousands of gallons of poison into the ocean like a respectable titan of industry and let that dude die slow-like as God intended? (page 123 in the Bible actually.) Running him over with your boat might be a bit much.
The Second Amendment
You realize that when they added this one in it was because the country was a crooked shit hole patrolled by bands of French highwayman, red heathens and dastardly cut-purses, right? And that we were fighting violently to dislodge our little experiment in magic-worshiping religious lunatics and tax- and debt-evaders from the 100% evil British?
I'm pretty sure we weathered that upheaval over two hundred years ago just fine. Maybe it's time to let this one expire off the books. Think of it like your gym membership. Just stop showing up for a few months until the pathetic sales dude stops calling you to schedule a work out and call it even.
Then again, the King of England and his army of Prussian mercenaries may very well come marching into your turdwater town and occupy Home Depot any day now, so really, what choice do you have?
Update:
The Cheney plan to deploy the U.S. military on U.S. soil
Ho-leeeee. Shit. Balls. Never mind all that hippy business up there. Anyone know where I can get a good deal on a bazooka.Saturday, July 25, 2009
America
At some point, when America has fully fallen from power, scholars from around the world will study its meteoric rise to become the world's only remaining superpower and its tragic downfall while the rest of the world cheers. There will have been triumphs: getting 'er done against the Nazis, landing on the moon, the tuck-rule, etc. There will be turning points: JFK assassination, September 11, the time they renamed french fries in the Congressional cafeteria to freedom fries because the French didn't share our fervor for slaughtering people in Iraq.
Anywho, when America is said and done, it'll be a vast wasteland, not much different from "The Road." One can only hope that this clip will be the only thing played on the radio, the television, the internet and any sort of transmission that one can pick up while tirelessly walking towards the coast and fending off marauders. Just out there on an endless loop forever.
Let's face it, that time is now.
Anywho, when America is said and done, it'll be a vast wasteland, not much different from "The Road." One can only hope that this clip will be the only thing played on the radio, the television, the internet and any sort of transmission that one can pick up while tirelessly walking towards the coast and fending off marauders. Just out there on an endless loop forever.
Let's face it, that time is now.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Waiting In Line
Been trying pretty hard without much luck to come up with a list of things I might actually wait in a line for for more than five seconds. Here's what I've got so far:
- The last helicopter ride off of an exploding volcano island/zombie infested city
- A fucking suicide machine if I ever have to look at one of these lineups of man-children camping out over night for a new sneaker, computer gadget, Harry Potter thing or tickets to any concert or movie or sporting event or anything else even remotely entertainment related ever again.
- Bread
image from here
Caring About Sports Too Much
You ever have something twist your melon up real good like a death in the family or a bad breakup or you lost your job or you realized you're an anonymous, boring dickhead with absolutely nothing to show for decades of hard work? Then one day a few weeks or months later you wake up from a really restful night's sleep and it takes a minute or two before that gradual realization seeps back in? It's nice in that space isn't it? Quiet. Peaceful.
Inevitably though the memory sneaks up through your brain bushes like a creeping ninja of pain and you realize all over again that that bullshit went down. Now you're swimming face first through the failure soup that is your normal life.
In a related story, some terrorist freedom hater on the radio just brought up this incident below and it triggered some down deep Manchurian Candidate shit in me that I can't shake loose. I'm not saying that this event taught me what it's like to live through a war or a natural disaster, but... OK, I am saying that. Get me, I'm on the List.
Wakes
I’m going to just shake your hand now, say “Sorry for your loss” and then go stare in horror at that corpse lying in that box over there, pretending to pray.What Does Your Tattoo Mean?
I don't know dude... what does your shirt mean? How about that haircut?
Thought so. Think I'll stand over there now if that's ok with you. Good talk though.
Thought so. Think I'll stand over there now if that's ok with you. Good talk though.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Mixed Martial Arts
No question that fighting in MMA takes a ton of dedication, training and stamina to do well. But guess what, so does getting out four L's in one afternoon to that Erin Andrews peep hole video, and you wouldn't call that a sport would you. (adjusts scarf) It's really more of an art.
So does beating Halo. Get me, I'm a champeen of the world. Where's my tv deal and horrendous burn victim zebra patten t-shirt design company?
It's just not a sport if a likely outcome is the dude saying "I give up" about five seconds in. That's called marriage, actually.
Yes, I know that any single one of these dudes could flip me over, pummel me into submission and make me cry before I even got my speedo on straight. So could a walrus in a party hat. This shit is still gayer than a pink boner. *
*Wait, isn't calling shit gay on the List, you're probably thinking. Nah, it's cool. I know this one dude at work.
Photo, as usual, from the greatest fucking site on the internet.
So does beating Halo. Get me, I'm a champeen of the world. Where's my tv deal and horrendous burn victim zebra patten t-shirt design company?
It's just not a sport if a likely outcome is the dude saying "I give up" about five seconds in. That's called marriage, actually.
Yes, I know that any single one of these dudes could flip me over, pummel me into submission and make me cry before I even got my speedo on straight. So could a walrus in a party hat. This shit is still gayer than a pink boner. *
*Wait, isn't calling shit gay on the List, you're probably thinking. Nah, it's cool. I know this one dude at work.
Photo, as usual, from the greatest fucking site on the internet.
"Cougars" as a Thing
Since the advent of the whole political correctness deal it's become a little bit harder for dudes to figure out where exactly they fit on the paralyzing hatred of women spectrum. Back in our grandparents' day when they had to pass misogyny exams in Latin every school quarter it was a piece of cake (that a woman obviously baked.)
But there are probably a lot of you walking around out there right now thinking to yourself, "Shoot, I know I am absolutely shit my pants terrified of vaginas, but I'm not convinced just yet how hard I deserve to be punched in the face."
Worry no more. All you have to do is ask yourself if you ever, even once, made a wisecrack about that awesome fake trend pop culture invented in the last year or so called Cougars. Cougars, in case you're a person who doesn't have time to keep up with internet jokes (meaning you have a real job) are women past the age of, what? 35 I guess, who have the dreadful impertinence to still be interested in sexual intercourse. Sometimes, hehe, with men YOUNGER THAN THEY ARE. I know, I know. Crazy right? Probably has something to do with all these weird synthetic hormones they've got in the hamburgers and what not nowadays.
Anyway, so you have haven't you? You've made that joke. Sigh. You may as well have just headed home and pistol whipped your mom in the ovaries on the way back from dropping out of school, because you are a fucking disgrace to her good name and you've let her down big time mister. Wait till your father gets home.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Promotion
Pretty easy for anyone who's had a job (a real one, not dogwalker or artist or whatever) to point out the biggest douches in the office.
Which guys did you think of? The sales guys, right?
But why? There's zillions of reasons why, starting with: those pants, those shoes, that shirt with that collar, that cellphone clip, that haircut, that car, that house in Framingham, that cd collection... Well you get it, the list goes on (barely, amiright?)
Aside from those things that I pointed to up there^ there is a bigger reasons at play here: these guys actually do sales for a living.
Good god, can you imagine the complete lack of self-awareness one would have to have to do that? Talking constantly into people's faces about how awesome whatever is. It is one step below being in a band, where at least when that person is talking into your face about their new EP, you usually have a beer in your hand or are out front gunning down a butt or trying to accidentally bump into that one chick with the star tattoo. Anyway, my point is, these guys exist.
Which guys did you think of? The sales guys, right?
But why? There's zillions of reasons why, starting with: those pants, those shoes, that shirt with that collar, that cellphone clip, that haircut, that car, that house in Framingham, that cd collection... Well you get it, the list goes on (barely, amiright?)
Aside from those things that I pointed to up there^ there is a bigger reasons at play here: these guys actually do sales for a living.
Good god, can you imagine the complete lack of self-awareness one would have to have to do that? Talking constantly into people's faces about how awesome whatever is. It is one step below being in a band, where at least when that person is talking into your face about their new EP, you usually have a beer in your hand or are out front gunning down a butt or trying to accidentally bump into that one chick with the star tattoo. Anyway, my point is, these guys exist.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Best Man Speeches
Granted, it's really not that hard to be a better dude than me. The friend whose wedding I went to this weekend certainly falls under that category (salt of the god damned Earth, that kid!) But how is it possible that every dude hammer I've ever witnessed tie the knot turns out to have secretly been a combination of Ghandi, Jack Kennedy and Batman all rolled into one? (In other words, Tom Brady.)
I mean, I've seen most of these dudes pilot their goofy lives around the world and I wouldn't exactly call it a tear-jerking experience. And yet somehow, every time, the best man manages to make a summary of this investment banker from Connecticut's life play out like a montage of Rudy, Old Yeller and The Shawshank Redemption set to a Coldplay track.
All the same, I'm actually kind of worried about what my future best man is gonna say. "Uh, he never shot anyone on purpose, and he, uh, liked football I guess. I don't know. They serve that chicken yet?"
Anyway, the point is this, there's a couple times when it's completely acceptable to lie about your friends. One, after they're dead. Two, at the wedding after they've just gotten married (same thing.) And three, when the woman they marry asks about the bachelor party amirightfellas!!
I mean, I've seen most of these dudes pilot their goofy lives around the world and I wouldn't exactly call it a tear-jerking experience. And yet somehow, every time, the best man manages to make a summary of this investment banker from Connecticut's life play out like a montage of Rudy, Old Yeller and The Shawshank Redemption set to a Coldplay track.
All the same, I'm actually kind of worried about what my future best man is gonna say. "Uh, he never shot anyone on purpose, and he, uh, liked football I guess. I don't know. They serve that chicken yet?"
Anyway, the point is this, there's a couple times when it's completely acceptable to lie about your friends. One, after they're dead. Two, at the wedding after they've just gotten married (same thing.) And three, when the woman they marry asks about the bachelor party amirightfellas!!
Live Hip Hop
Dude. Please stop yelling at me. Pretty sure that if you have to berate people into having a good time it doesn't really count. Trust me, I try every time I bring my girlfriend to the casino.
Can you imagine what it's like having sex with one of these dudes? "MAKE SOME NOISE! I CAN'T HEAR YOU!" Gaah. Let's make a deal. If I promise to get my hands up for a minute or two, can you get your hype man to take a knee for the next few numbers? Dude's hoarse ass barking is seriously bumming me out.
I'm here for the music, not a fascist aerobics class. If I wanted to get guilt tripped into dancing and having fun I'd go to a wedding reception, ok?
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Fast Food Clerks
If I'm 15 yards away from the counter, standing slack-jawed while staring at the menu above your head, brow furrowed and deliberately avoiding eye contact with you, then no, I'm not ready to order. I can see how you'd be confused, though, I was really giving off signals the way I was leaning against the back wall there. Listen, I know you're bored out of your fucking skull, but If you have to cup your hands around your mouth in order for me to hear you say "Can I help you?" I might still need a second.
Also, If you ever come home from the garbage dump with more than you went with....you might just be a redneck.
Also, If you ever come home from the garbage dump with more than you went with....you might just be a redneck.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Still Reading This Blog
You ever have some mongoloid job at a chain restaurant or like, a hat kiosk at the mall or what have you and you bump into someone you know rolling past and you're both kind of embarrassed about seeing each other, but at least you're working and getting that paper and what the hell is this other dude getting at hanging out here anyway?
I have to write this junk. So what's your excuse? Isn't there a tabloid skank with her tubs out at some pool you can look at instead on The Superficial? Uh, what else do people do on the internet? They still have e-bay over there? Those muckraking scamps at Gawker invent any microscopically insignificant publishing celebrities lately?
I have to write this junk. So what's your excuse? Isn't there a tabloid skank with her tubs out at some pool you can look at instead on The Superficial? Uh, what else do people do on the internet? They still have e-bay over there? Those muckraking scamps at Gawker invent any microscopically insignificant publishing celebrities lately?
Anyway, the package is running dangerously low over here at List HQ if you feel me. Hopefully re-up in a few days.
Meanwhile we'll probably just keeping stealing photos from this site.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Air Guitar
This shit was bad enough when you did it in private while sitting in traffic or even in public on the subway with your headphones on or whatever. Nobody was gonna confuse you with the dude from Faster Pussycat, anyway. Same goes with air drums: John Bonham, you ain’t. But now you gotta enter a fucking contest? Have it your way, assholes, but if anyone out there has the number for al-Qaeda, or, like, one of those leftover IRA dudes, please send it my way ASA-fuckin’-P, because I wanna line the basement walls of that place with military grade explosives and napalm jelly and I’ll even do it in the name of Allah and Bobby Sands at the same time if it makes you all disappear in a smoldering cloud of permanent failure.
Oh, wait—give me my dynamite back. These people go first:
Spooky Kids in Movies
Wow. Scary business over here. Look at this 50 lb High School Musical fan. What's she going to do, cry on my ankles?
I guess we're still doing this though. The spooky demon kid thing. With the hair and the eyes and whatever. But the people who make these movies are forgetting a few important considerations:
First of all, can I literally lift this scary thing up over my head, twirl it around like I'm Hollywood Hogan, and snap it over my knee like a baguette? If the answer is yes, then it's not scary.
Here's the math:
If x = baguette then x =/= scary
But there's also the matter of quantity to consider. One bug, for example, not scary. Ten thousand of them and I'm weeping fear juice in my pants. One teenager riding the subway: not scary. Seven of them and I'm getting off at the next stop and calling my mom.
Wait, how many teenagers could I lift over my head anyway? One and a half?
I guess we're still doing this though. The spooky demon kid thing. With the hair and the eyes and whatever. But the people who make these movies are forgetting a few important considerations:
First of all, can I literally lift this scary thing up over my head, twirl it around like I'm Hollywood Hogan, and snap it over my knee like a baguette? If the answer is yes, then it's not scary.
Here's the math:
If x = baguette then x =/= scary
But there's also the matter of quantity to consider. One bug, for example, not scary. Ten thousand of them and I'm weeping fear juice in my pants. One teenager riding the subway: not scary. Seven of them and I'm getting off at the next stop and calling my mom.
Wait, how many teenagers could I lift over my head anyway? One and a half?
Monday, July 6, 2009
Recycling Pride
Sometimes if the recycling bin is a few steps closer than the trash I'll throw one of the five plastic bottles I buy a day into it. Where's my Nobel Prize?
American Hunters
VICTORY! Nice shot there Rambo. How hard was it to machine gun those geese (?) from literally two feet away on the ground?
Meanwhile doesn't seem so tough anymore when you come across girls like this totally snacking down on the raw arctic snow monster she has her mits in there. What do you suppose the deal is with arranged marriage on whatever planet she's from?
Worrying About Germs
Look at this little broad. Punk as balls. She's basically telling all you hand sanitizing dandies out there that swine flu is for pussies.
Trying
Dear Friend,
What are you, some kind of goddamn hero? Burning the candle at both ends? Looking out for number one? Trying to soar with the eagles and shit? Well, knock it the fuck off already. You're just making things harder for the rest of us.
Sincerely,
A Bum
What are you, some kind of goddamn hero? Burning the candle at both ends? Looking out for number one? Trying to soar with the eagles and shit? Well, knock it the fuck off already. You're just making things harder for the rest of us.
Sincerely,
A Bum
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
DJs
Bro, I just arranged the books on my shelf in the sickest order. The pages are like flowing together and shit. Hottt. Quick, someone take a picture of me with a scarf on. My bangs are sweating across my forehead kinda nice right now.
If I wanted to read the same shit over and over again I'd come here to the List blog, so knock it off already, won't you? I can appreciate you putting a moratorium on talking about Jacko's passing, but it ain't exactly time for the Weather Report reunion tour yet if you catch my drift. Plus rain is good for you, so you sound like an idiot anyway.Having a Home Phone
You just left me a VM (List) 30 seconds ago and my Missed Calls list clearly indicates that you did so from your cell. Yet when I call you back, I get your VM greeting (List).
Wait, what's that? I should wait for the beep and THEN leave a message? Oh, you're not around to take my call? Thanks for solving that complex riddle for me, Batman! What's next? Are you going teach me how to put one foot in front of the other, explain the abbreviation "e-mail", or illuminate the intricacies of inhaling/exhaling?
But getting back to the point, what happened in the 60 seconds that it took me to return your phone call that rendered you incapable of answering? Cause unless you're getting raped by a robot baboon from mars, I call bullshit.
What's that you say? You left me a message saying to call you on your home phone?
Who am I fucking Gandhi? Did you honestly think I was patient enough to push 1 and listen to your 30 second long message?
The fact is, there are only two possible reasons why you have a home phone.
1. Comcast told you that you'd save 10 cents a year if you bought their combo package.
2. You just had kids and you're worried you won't be able to call your babysitter if there's an amber alert in whatever quasi-suburb you could afford to move to.
In either case:
1 Missed Call = 617.the.list
Wait, what's that? I should wait for the beep and THEN leave a message? Oh, you're not around to take my call? Thanks for solving that complex riddle for me, Batman! What's next? Are you going teach me how to put one foot in front of the other, explain the abbreviation "e-mail", or illuminate the intricacies of inhaling/exhaling?
But getting back to the point, what happened in the 60 seconds that it took me to return your phone call that rendered you incapable of answering? Cause unless you're getting raped by a robot baboon from mars, I call bullshit.
What's that you say? You left me a message saying to call you on your home phone?
Who am I fucking Gandhi? Did you honestly think I was patient enough to push 1 and listen to your 30 second long message?
The fact is, there are only two possible reasons why you have a home phone.
1. Comcast told you that you'd save 10 cents a year if you bought their combo package.
2. You just had kids and you're worried you won't be able to call your babysitter if there's an amber alert in whatever quasi-suburb you could afford to move to.
In either case:
1 Missed Call = 617.the.list
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